A Taste of Lyrium
by Persnicketese
Summary: The battle to severe the hold lyrium had upon him was hard enough as it was. He hadn't expected temptation to take her form.


It was a gnawing hunger that ate him from the inside out. It was a burn that was slow and all consuming that he could not escape. It only grew worse as time went on, even as her voice echoed in his head, telling him it would get better. He knew it wouldn't be easy, and he'd have to stay away from it. He had no idea that temptation would take her form.

He had been seeing to the soldiers when he came across her sparing with Dorian. A practice she had taken up as she was beginning her specialized training. Poor Dorian had reluctantly agreed if only because Madam de Fer always claimed she was too busy to do so, and Solas was always deep in study.

The two had become fast friends, and Cullen was glad to see Lady Trevelyan have another mage to speak to. He wished he could offer help, but considering all that he was going through and his duties, he made for a poor choice in sparring partners.

He foolishly watched her and Dorian trade superficial blows. Dorian threw up a barrier while she attacked, sparks hissing as they clashed against it before skittering across the stones beneath their feet. Lady Trevelyan nearly danced as she gracefully spun her staff, weaving magic from the air into form. She was magnificent.

Exhausted, Dorian held up a hand to halt their match and gave a breathless laugh. "I think that's about all I have in me today. I might actually start to break a sweat."

"Wouldn't want that, would we?" Trevelyan had a smirk that could melt a man into a puddle at a dozen paces. It never failed.

"Of course not. The horror of it all." Dorian waved to her before turning around and heading back to the keep.

Trevelyan chuckled to herself as she leaned on her staff. Cullen began to approach her when she pulled a flask of lyrium from a pouch and put it to her lips.

Suddenly his heart was pounding against his tongue. Every ounce of his body screamed in for him to take it as his eyes were glued to the bottle. Lyrium's siren song of swung sweetly to him as it passed her lips. He wondered if he kissed her hard if he could taste the lyrium on her lips.

Hate chased the dark need down his throat and he nearly gagged on it. Cullen felt roiling shame twist his gut as he turned away from the woman he loved. He thought he had been doing so well. He had made vows. He wouldn't waver. Even if he wanted to with every painful stab of greedy desire.

"Cullen?"

Maker's breath. He didn't know he could face her at the moment. He wanted to keep going and leave her there, but that would hurt her. It wasn't her fault he was being dogged by his addiction. It wasn't her fault she needed it and he didn't. With steel in his spine he went to her, trying to hide his inner turmoil.

It failed miserably. Her brow knitted in a mix of confusion and worry that made his heart tumble free from his mouth. She reached out a hand and touched his arm gingerly. "Are you alright? You look ill."

A thousand lies came instantly to his tongue, but he swallowed them down. He wasn't a good liar, even if it was to spare her. He loved her, respected her, and so he wouldn't insult her with pathetic lies that would do nothing but harm them both. Cullen waved for her to follow him to his tower. He didn't want to discuss things in the open.

They walked in silence until he locked his tower door's and she asked again, "What's wrong?"

He licked his dry, cracked lips as the image of her drinking the lyrium potion was all he could see. Cullen shook his head as he ran fingers through his hair, trying to sort his thoughts into something coherent.

She knew what was wrong the moment he took too long to say something. His quiet spoke louder than any words that he could conjure. A hand cupped his cheek as she stared up into his eyes, a deep understanding love filled them. "You saw me drink the lyrium, didn't you?"

He bit his lip hard enough he swore he was about to draw blood. Shame redden his cheeks as he tried to look away, but her touch refused to let him. He let out a heavy sigh that left him feeling lightheaded. "Yes."

"Cullen, I am so sorry." Her voice was colored with quiet sorrow. That hurt worse than the feverish need for the lyrium. Maker's breath, he had hurt hurt her.

He had worried about that the second he had mentioned he had stopped taking the lyrium. She had, of course, been nothing but supportive. Vowing to do whatever she could to help him overcome the leash the Chantry had tied around his neck. Yet, she was a mage and she needed what he craved. It was bound to happen.

Except her had tried so hard not to let his problems be her burden. Now here she was looking as if she had hurt him, when all she had done was take care of her own needs. Maker, how could he have done this to her?

Shame dragged him into a spiral that promised a crash and burn at the end when her touch became steel upon his jaw. "No."

"No?" Surprise halted his descent and he blinked at her.

"Do not blame yourself for me feeling awful. If I had known you were there I would have held off. I know how hard this is for you, and that wasn't helping. I hurt you even though I didn't mean to." Her grip soften and she caressed the stubble on his cheek.

"It's alright. I should have-"

"No." She was unyielding and in that instant he saw her not as his Lady Trevelyan, but as the Inquisitor. This was the woman who could face down dragons and navigate Orlesian nobility without blinking.

"I hurt you and even if it wasn't my intention, I did so anyway. I will be mindful of that in the future. I refuse to hurt you like that again." She sighed as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to her. "I'm sorry."

He pressed his face to the top of her had, his nose filling with the scent of her. He nodded in return, his voice laying fractured somewhere in the back of his throat. He tipped her face up and kissed her.

She returned it with enough heat that it burned away all memory of the darkness that had ate through him moments before. The need for the lyrium was temporarily replaced for his need for her. She broke the kiss and whispered words of strength against his lips. "You can do this, you know that right? You're strong and you are not alone. Not ever."

"I know, and thank you. I-I don't know what I'd do without you." He chuckled weakly, still feeling the corrosive desire lurking under the surface. He tried to ignore it. Instead he drank down her love like it a man dying of thirst.

"You'd make it because you're a strong man without me. I just cheer you on." She tossed him a wink before stealing another kiss from him.

On her lips he only tasted her, and it was what he needed. Her words, her love, her strength reinforced him. He loved her so deeply he couldn't find words to express it. Cullen pulled her to him tightly, putting all he felt into his embrace.

She squeezed him back before slowly maneuvering them towards the ladder that lead to his bed in the loft. Her words licked against his lips as her eyes sent heat down into his belly. "I think you could use a little cheer. Come, my love, and let me cheer you up."

Maker's breath, he loved her. The battle against his addiction would be a hard fought one, but with her by his side, how could he lose?


End file.
